


Jedi Masters and Duchesses are Not To Be Trusted (or, how everyone in Obi-Wan's life is conspiring against him, and he just wants to Rest)

by ladanse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, because those two are honestly so gay, blink-and-you'll-miss-it obi-wan/quinlan vos, but also obitine 4 life, he can't catch a break, poor obi, qui-gon is a meddling matchmaker, satine is a queen like she is in canon, though she doesn't get too much dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladanse/pseuds/ladanse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then you must learn patience, Padawan," says Qui-Gon. </p><p>His eyes are twinkling; Obi-Wan cannot kriffing believe he is stuck with the only master in the entire Jedi temple who would actually set up their Padawan during a five-month suicide mission. Or, in fact, set up their Padawan at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jedi Masters and Duchesses are Not To Be Trusted (or, how everyone in Obi-Wan's life is conspiring against him, and he just wants to Rest)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! just a short thing that I love bc qui-gon is totally the no 1 obitine shipper tbh

Honestly, Obi-Wan thinks as he trips over yet another spiny root hidden in the dense, soft undergrowth of the Draboon soil. Could they have picked a planet any more karking miserable to hide in?

 

Unsurprisingly graceful despite the (awful) terrain, Qui-Gon Jinn glides serenely beside him, privy to his distress as always. _At least we will be harder to find_ , hums his master through their Force-bond. _And you need to learn to connect better with the Living Force, even through plants such as these_. Obi-Wan grumbles his displeasure.

 

In between them walks Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, holding a blaster.

 

Duchess Kryze, Obi-Wan muses. Satine. A - well. An... _interesting_ woman, he supposes. Good with a blaster despite her refusal to take it off stun, sharp-witted, and quite - well. She's not ugly. Obi-Wan isn't _blind_.

 

But quite frankly, she has been a terrible, snarky, arrogant pain in the neck. Qui-Gon says he's being petulant, but (and he knows how this sounds) she _always_ starts it. What is he supposed to do?

 

Case in point: earlier today, with the venom-mites. He saved her - he _literally_ _picked her up_ and carried her to safety - and then he just happened to trip over once (once!) and maybe drop her a little bit. She got cut (barely a _scratch_ , honestly) on her leg, and she hasn't stopped harping on him since.

 

  
_Master, I can feel your amusement from here_ , Obi-Wan thinks, gritting his teeth. Qui-Gon only smiles and pretends to ignore him.

 

Obi-Wan trips, again. Satine suppresses a laugh, and Qui-Gon remains infuriatingly steady.

 

He lets out a long breath. Only eleven hours until nightfall.

 

(It's going to be a long day.)

 

*********************

 

_Later_

 

Their two threadbare tents are set up, their cold rations for the night have been consumed, and Obi-Wan is absolutely ready to get out of his sticky robes. He stands, and bows to the Duchess.

 

"Good night, Duchess Kryze," he says as coldly as possible, and turns to his tent. Qui-Gon and Satine stifle snorts in eerie unison, and he sees them share a glance.

 

Obi-Wan has a _very bad feeling_ about this.

 

"Actually," says Satine, and he lets out an explosive sigh. Here it comes. "The Mandalorian cohort has been closing in rapidly. I will need a guard for tonight."

 

He's confused. "We'll be right in the other tent, milady."

 

"No," says Satine, shaking her head for emphasis. "I'll need a guard to stay with me, in case anything happens. This jungle is so loud I doubt even you could hear anyone coming."

 

"She's right," says Qui-Gon. "This planet buzzes with the Living Force. There's much interference."

 

  
_Banthashit_ , Obi-Wan thinks, gritting his teeth, but he yields. "Qui-Gon can stay with you."

 

"Do you really think he would fit in my tent?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "No offense, Master Jedi."

 

"None taken," he replies magnanimously.

 

"Oh," says Obi-Wan. "You mean me."

 

"Of course I do," says Satine. "Do you see any other Jedi around here?"

 

"That's not what I meant," snaps Obi-Wan, automatically.

 

"Then what did you mean?"

 

Obi-Wan stops. He meant, will I have to share a tent, with you, _alone_ , at _night_ , but he can't say that. Because that would profess to him having actually had several thoughts he has most definitely _not_ been having, and he would rather fall into a nest of gundarks.

 

But, of course, Yoda's voice pops into his head. _Face the truth, a Jedi does_. He sighs, curses himself for being such a model student, and steadies himself.

 

"Milady," he says, "I think it's better that Qui-Gon stays with you. I am not sure... I cannot say that I will be able to judge the situation objectively, if something does arise."

 

There, he thinks. He's following the Code, recognizing his attachments, facing his fears. Qui-Gon will be proud of him -

 

"Sometimes, we must be subjective to truly understand the Living Force," says Qui-Gon.

 

_...what?_

 

Obi-Wan turns to look at him. "You have got to be joking, Master," he says, trying a different tactic. "I can't spend the night with her. She's too infuriating." Satine makes an indignant noise -

 

"Then you must learn patience, Padawan," says Qui-Gon. His eyes are twinkling; Obi-Wan cannot _kriffing_ believe he is stuck with the only master in the entire Jedi Order who would actually set up their Padawan during a five-month suicide mission. Or, in fact, set up their Padawan at all.

 

"Fine," he says. He meets Satine's eyes, and it's a mistake; she looks predatory and lazily contented all at once, and he can't help but wonder if she would like that after -

 

  
_Well_. Was the night getting hotter? Maybe jungles got hotter at night. He'd have to look that up when they got back to the Temple -

 

"Obi," says Qui-Gon. "I believe it's time to turn in," and that's not fair, his Master must know that the nickname makes Obi-Wan feel like a son rather than just the fourth Padawan of the line -

 

"Yes, okay," says Obi-Wan, suddenly awkward. "Let's - I'll grab my bedroll - " He ducks into the relative safety of the tent, cheeks flaming, and takes a steady breath. He doesn't usually - he hasn't actually - well, unless you count that one time with Quinlan Vos, but they've agreed not to speak of that, and Force, he should not be thinking about Quinlan Vos and his kriffing tattoos right now of all times -

 

Bed. Right. He snatches his bedroll off the ground and steps back outside, stomach twisting. Satine is undoing her hair next to the tent's entrance; he whips his head away so that he doesn't stare.

 

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up to meet Qui-Gon's eyes. "Good night, Padawan," is all he says, but there is a question there, a silent offer to trade places if he is truly uncomfortable -

 

But he wants to do this. He - well. He _really_ wants to do this.

 

"Good night, Master," he says, mustering up a little smile. Qui-Gon nods, concern alleviated, and slips into the tent.

 

"Ready?" drawls Satine, her posh accent in full force.

 

He pulls up his own Coruscanti to match it. "Are you?" he asks, and pulls her inside with a smirk.

 

*********************

 

_Much later_

 

Obi-Wan wears his robes buttoned up to the throat the next day. Satine has no such problems, because Obi-Wan is _polite_ and _sensible_ , unlike _someone_ he knows -

 

"Are you sure you won't be too hot with your robes bound so tight?" asks Qui-Gon nonchalantly.

 

"I'll be fine, Master," he says out loud, but projects _SHUT UP_ as loudly as he can across their bond.

 

Qui-Gon chuckles. Satine snorts. Obi-Wan grits his teeth and sighs, with an uncomfortable sense of deja vu.

 

This day might just be even longer than yesterday.

 

Only a few more weeks, he tells himself. But he cannot help the lightness in his heart or the cheer in his step - somehow, both these boltheads have wormed their way into his heart.

 

  
_Be wary of attachments_ , says Yoda's voice.

 

  
_Shut up_ , he tells it, for the first time in his life. He is happy. For right now, that is enough.


End file.
